The Perfect Date
by Kodou Kikoeru
Summary: And now for something completely different from my last story, here's a nice Goten x Trunks shounen ai fic, probably suitable for all audiences. Warning: Shounen ai means boy love. Enjoy!


Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z or any of its characters.

And now for something completely different (from the last fic). It's a one-shot. Enjoy!

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I lie on my back in the tall grass, enjoying the warmth of the sun on my cheeks. Trunks is up in the tree whose shade extends just out of my range, sprawled out on a branch. We've just sparred for two hours, and now was that glorious time afterwards where we could just take it easy.

Not that I don't enjoy sparring, mind you. Besides the rush of fighting and the whole idea of an out-and-out battle for dominance, it's a chance to be close to him. Trunks wins probably about eighty percent of the time. I have to put up a fight some time or Trunks won't even try. But sometimes I let him win. I think he enjoys the victory more than I do.

Lately, I've noticed I've developed an attraction toward Trunks. Beyond that of a friend or sparring partner. I mean, it feels like it's always been there, but I think the first time I really noticed it was three years ago, when I was twelve. Nothing crazy happened then, it was just one day, when Trunks had me pinned to the ground, I noticed my heart beating like crazy. Not from excessive exercise, but from having my face so close to his. If I weren't pinned down, I might've leapt up and kissed him. He could probably hear my heartbeat. He didn't react harshly, though. And I've heard his heart beat the same way after I pin him. After spending my entire life with him, I think I can read him well enough to see that he feels the same way about me, though neither of us has ever voiced these feelings.

Trunks then awakens and stands up, balancing himself on the branch, jumping down to the ground.

"Goten?"

I have my eyes closed and pretend to be asleep a little bit longer. I never fell asleep to begin with, but sometimes I just like doing this.

"Goten, wake up!"

I slowly open my eyes, "Hmm? Trunks?"

"Hey,"

I rub my eyes, even though they don't need rubbing, "Hey, what's up?"

"I was just wondering...," he says, leaning back against the tree, trying to make himself look comfortable, "what are you doing tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow night? Um, nothing, why?"

"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to, ... y'know, I don't know, see a movie or something?" he asks, not exactly exuding the charm he seems to want to.

"What movie?"

"Well, I was thinking, ... err... that one that came out last Friday? I forget the name."

"..._Love in the Strangest Places_?"

"Yeah, I think that's it."

"Trunks... are you... asking me out on a date?"

"A date? Ha, no... I mean, well,... yes! As friends!" he responds defensively.

"Hmm..."

"I mean, y'know, if you don't want to..."

"No, I'd love to!"

"You would?" he asks, sapphire eyes lighting up, and then immediately dimming, "I mean, 'Cool, I'll see you tomorrow night, then.'"

"Heh, all righ--," and before I can entirely respond, Trunks is off.

What happened to the rest of this afternoon?

---------

The next day, I go to the spot in the forest where Trunks and I meet daily. I look around the dark green landscape for a fewminutes before noticing a sheet of paper, clearly ripped from a notebook, taped to a rock, that reads, "See you tonight! - Trunks."

What about now, Trunks? I want to spend time with you now.

I want to spar. I've gotten used to venting any frustration I have through sparring, on a daily basis. It's like a drug, almost. I want to start punching this rock, but I know that wouldn't be much of a fight. I guess I could go home and fight Dad, but it's really not the same. Trunks, come on.

I return home and call him immediately.

"Hello?"

"Trunks! There you are, listen..."

"Goten? Hey, I can't talk now, but I'll see you tonight, all right?"

"Umm... well... all right, but where are we supposed to meet?"

"Meet? Uh... I'll just pick you up around six, okay?"

"Pick me up? What are you talking about?"

"I'm taking my mom's car."

He hangs up before I can respond.

I sigh and lie down on the couch next to the phone, glancing at the clock that hangs on the wall. 2:20. What am I going to do until 6?

Lazily, I continue to lie there for another fifteen minutes before Dad comes downstairs and asks, "What's up? Why aren't you out with Trunks?"

"Oh, we're doing something at six."

He scratches his head, "Umm, so why can't you do something before six?"

"No idea."

"Well, what are you going to do at six?"

I blush slightly, "We're going on a date."

It's not a lie. That's what Trunks called it himself. Well, after I suggested it, but still.

"A date? That's good. I remember Chichi and me going on dates. They're fun."

"You're not mad?"

"Mad? No, of course not. You know, come to think of it, Bulma was talking how Trunks was acting to you. She said it was like how Chichi acted to me."

"What?"

"Yeah, that's what Bulma said."

"Hmm," I respond, pondering this statement, "Well, hey, Dad, do you wanna go spar?"

"Sure, all right."

---------

We finish sparring dangerously close to six in the evening, and I don't have much time to rest before Trunks pulls up in Bulma's car. As I walk toward it, Trunks jumps out in a white button-up shirt and nice, navy-colored pants, makes his way around, and opens the door for me.

I cock an eyebrow in his direction as I step in and welcome the cold air conditioning against the sweat covering my face and shirt.

Trunks then steps into the car as well.

"You're looking nice this evening," Trunks says.

"Umm... I just got done training."

"Yeah, well... it... okay," he stutters, with a barely noticeable blush present.

"You're dressed up nicely."

"Oh, this?" he asks, "Nothing much."

He says that, presumably forgetting that I've known him his entire life, and that I know he hates getting dressed up.

I sit back in the car seat and smell the leather, before my nose leads me back toward Trunks. "Trunks? Is that cologne?"

"Hmm? Oh yeah, I just wanted to try it out, y'know."

"All... right."

"Yeah. Hey, do you want to get something to eat first?"

"I am a little hungry after training, now that you mention it."

"All right, great. I was thinking that French restaurant in town."

"French restaurant? We usually just get the all you can eat buffet at that other place."

"Yeah, well, ... tell you what, it's my treat."

"Well, umm... all right. If that's what you want."

Trunks nods as I return my gaze to my window.

Since when do you like French food?

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We pull into the parking lot and enter the extravagantly decorated restaurant.

Trunks walks up to the man behind the podium, and says, "Briefs, party of two."

"But of course, Monsieur Briefs, right this way," he replies in a heavy French accent.

I laugh to myself. What is this, a movie?

We are seated in a table in the back, apparently as per Trunks's request, with two red candles lit in the center and a red rose in a clear glass vase between them.

We sit across from each other in silence, finding small things to distract us. I begin scratching the tablecloth, seeing if I can get any of the threads to come loose. He starts playing with the fire in the candles before immediately stopping, taking the napkin, and putting it in his lap. I giggle a little bit as I do likewise.

The waiter soon after brings us our menus. It's all in French, so I ask Trunks, "I don't know what any of this means. What should I get?"

He looks down at the menu and I notice his eyes bulge slightly before calming and saying, "I would recommend the umm... 'Mouse dee Saumon et Capris.'" he says, looking at "Mousse de Saumon et Câpres."

"I don't know French, but isn't that 'Mousse,'?

"Umm... yeah, that's what I meant." He doesn't know French either.

"I guess I'll have that, then."

"Me too."

---------

Half an hour passes with no food and almost no conversation. It's not usually this difficult to come up with something to talk about.

Finally, the waiter returns, and we are served two plates with this pink slop on them.

I look up, "Umm, Trunks, what is this?"

"It's, um... Mousse et Saumon and Capris?"

I'm pretty sure that's not what it was even called. "Oh," I respond, poking at it with my spoon.

Trunks takes a fork and digs in, taking a healthy amount of the pink stuff and shoving it into his mouth. His eyes bulge the same way.

I giggle aloud.

He then swallows it, with a tear clearly in his eye. He fakes a smile at me and says, "Go on, try it, Goten. It's great. Very French."

I want to say "No, thanks!" here now, but he did pay for it. And if I remember the price, it's like $14. For inedible pink slop?

I hold my nose and scoop up a tiny bit with my spoon and, trying my best to avoid touching it to my tongue, shove it down my throat. A couple in the booth behind us shoots me a funny look. I turn back to Trunks to laugh, but he only has a deep blush plastered on his face. My smile becomes a disappointed frown. Trunks is supposed to think that's pretty funny.

"I'm full," I say flatly, removing my napkin.

---------

After leaving the restaurant, we hurry to the movie theater. Trunks already has tickets for us, and so it's a pretty smooth process to get into the theater. I'm still hungry and kind of want to get some popcorn, but I told Trunks I was full. Maybe he knew what I meant. He's known me since I was born. He should know I just wanted to get out of there.

As we walk into the theater, I notice popcorn on the floor crunching beneath my feet. I stomp a little bit, trying to make as much noise as possible, when Trunks turns around and shoots me a strange, almost embarrassed look. I put my hands in my pockets and sit next to him as the movie starts.

This sappy harp music comes on as "Love in the Strangest Places" appears in light, purple, cursive letters. I notice Trunks smiling because I'm not really paying attention to the movie.

I also notice, throughout the movie, especially at highly emotional moments, Trunks inching his hand ever closer to mine. He does it so strangely nervously, though. How does he think I'm going to react? I want to reach over and kiss him or something and have him get over this whole awkward date thing. It's still me, Trunks. Why don't you realize that?

I eventually cross my arms. That slow crawling you've been doing doesn't need to be rewarded. He looks somewhat dejected. Sorry, Trunks. That's the way it's gotta be.

The movie ends and the two main characters end up together. Who didn't see that coming? I mean, it's nice to see it, but the same old ending over and over? Whatever.

---------

At the end of the night, Trunks drives me back. I could've gone back home myself, just as I could've brought myself to the movies,but the whole things should end the way it began, I think. Plus, if I said "I'll go home myself, thank you," how would that make Trunks feel? I'm still his friend.

When he pulls up to the house, he gets out, "Let me walk you to your door."

"Okay," I say, rolling my eyes, getting sick of the whole mock-date we had tonight.

We arrive in front of my door and he looks down without saying a word.

"Well,... um... do you want to come inside?" I ask.

"Really?" he responds.

"Uh, yes? You come over all the time," I say opening the door and turning on the light.

"Yeah, but, I mean... I thought this whole evening was kind of a disaster," he says, sitting down on the couch.

"Well,... tell ya what. Let's get some pizza."

"You're still hungry?"

"Of course! That French stuff was awful."

"Heh, yeah. I'm hungry, too, now that you mention it," he laughs, turning on the television and clearly loosening up.

"Good."

---------

After eating a stack of pizzas, splitting the cost, as we always do, the light is turned back off and the flickering television is the only thing lighting the room. I nestle my head in the space between Trunks's shoulder and cheek, almost asleep, as he wraps his arm around me and places his hand gently on my stomach. I smile warmly.

What an amazing date.

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End file.
